


Whumptober 2020 No. 8

by Sapless_Tree



Series: MacGyver Whumptober [6]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandonment, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Confused Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Gen, No. 8, Sick Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Sick Character, Sickfic, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, macgyver whump, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapless_Tree/pseuds/Sapless_Tree
Summary: Whumptober no. 8 "Where Did Everybody Go?"Prompt: abandonedHis brain was working in overdrive, trying to figure out what was happening. Had he been drugged? Where was everyone? Had something happened to them-- no, he remembered there were no signs of any sort of struggle.So... that left what?No, they wouldn't have just left him there on his own if something was really wrong.Right...?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: MacGyver Whumptober [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999582
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Whumptober 2020 No. 8

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh, a classic sickfic. Simple but sure way to sneak some warm fuzzies into your lovely day, dw this is all happy and fluffy by the end

A sudden silence was what woke Mac. 

Coming out of his hazy sleep, he was slowly becoming aware that he was warm and comfortable. It was the kind of comfortable that made his entire body feel soft and heavy, not the kind that wrapped around his head and made him unable to think. He was groggy and a little confused at first, and as Mac gradually opened his eyes, he could tell he was in bed in his room.

Why didn’t he remember going to bed last night?

Light trickled in through the window. The rustling of the blankets moving when Mac leaned to check the time was the only sound in the whole room-- in the whole house even, it seemed. 6:30. So it was either pretty early, or getting late. The pinks and purples drifting in from the sun didn’t help Mac in figuring out which-- was the sun setting or rising?

The comfortable warmness had grown oppressive as if someone had turned up the heat a good few degrees. Still a bit disoriented (not knowing what time it was or remembering having gone off to sleep) Mac tried to push the blankets off of himself. It took a few tries, seeing as how he was basically wrapped up-- no, _cocooned_ \-- in the blankets, but a couple of good tugs pulled them loose.

It was so quiet. Mac could only assume that either Bozer wasn’t home, or he was sleeping as well. Maybe it was morning-- why would he _and_ Bozer be sleeping at 6:30 in the evening? Staring up at the ceiling and trying to sort out his sleep-addled mind, Mac decided he’d had enough of just laying around and doing nothing. 

Slowly, he let himself up out of the bed. His whole body protested the movement, feeling sore and achy. With his line of work, Mac was sore more often than not, so he paid it no mind. He wasn’t really in a position to pay much mind to anything, though. Mac found that in addition to not remembering having come home and going to sleep, much of his movement now felt cloudy, almost as if he were walking through a dream.

‘ _Lightheadedness_ ,’ something in his subconscious provided, but he continued to shuffle out of his room in hopes of finding Bozer in his room, or Jack or Riley sleeping on the couch (as they often did). Still, even after his slow, clumsy check of the house, Mac couldn’t find anyone.

“Hello…?” Mac called out gently to no one. Had they all really up and left without him? Or maybe Jack and Riley had never been there in the first place and just Bozer had gone out. Why? And without letting Mac know first? It was strange to him, and Mac couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Mac stumbled into Bozer’s room again, only to find it just as empty as before. 

“Bozer?” He asked, unsure of why. Bozer was very clearly not in there. Something Mac did notice, however, was that his throat was sandpaper. Talking agitated it.

Eyes studying the place for signs of struggle on his way to the kitchen, Mac took note of every single detail of the house. It was making his head hurt, but it looked like everything was where it should be. Mac grabbed a cup from the cabinet and filled it with tap water; he barely took two sips before he decided he wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A shudder went down Mac’s spine and that was all it took before the blond was outright trembling. He had gotten cold so suddenly and wanted nothing more than to be back in his warm bed, wrapped up in blankets again. But as quickly as it had come on, the cold and shivering were gone.

Something was definitely wrong. Why was he sweating so much? 

Mac took a look at his hands, squeezing his eyes shut when things blurred slightly and a growing sense of dizziness and nausea took over.

His brain was working in overdrive, trying to figure out what was happening. Had he been drugged? Where was everyone? Had something happened to them-- no, he remembered there were no signs of any sort of struggle. 

So... that left what? 

No, they wouldn't have just left him there on his own if something was really wrong. 

Right...? 

Actually, they would-- _had_ , in fact. Case in point: A, he _knew_ something was wrong, and B, there was no one around. They’d just abandoned him there, left for dead.

‘ _Left for dead?_ ’ His brain suddenly interrupted its own train of thought. ‘ _There’s no immediate danger, and I’m in my own house,_ ’ he reminded himself. 

It was too hot. Shakily, Mac reached for the water again, sipping from it slowly before making his way over to the kitchen table. He didn’t trust himself to make it much further than that. His head was throbbing, and even with him being the only one in the house making any noise, it was much too loud. The kitchen lights were buzzing (he didn’t remember turning those on) and there was one incessant bird chirping outside. 

Outside? It was steadily growing darker-- so evening, then-- but that only added to his confusion. 

Why was he home alone and sleeping during the early evening? He couldn’t be sick-- if he were then surely someone would have stayed with him, right? He always insisted that he didn’t need to be watched over, but never before had any one of his team members listened to him on that. Even when they did believe he was mostly okay, they either had Bozer watch him or came up with some lame excuse to stay over and keep an eye on him.

As much as he griped, he appreciated that his team looked out for him, and he would always do the same for them. But he was alone then. 

How did that happen?

Mac folded his arms on the table and let his throbbing head rest on top of them. He supposed the team had finally just gotten tired of looking after him, and couldn’t really blame them. 

He was cold again. He missed his team-- his _family_. He felt miserable and confused, and maybe a little bit like he’d throw up. But mostly he was just tied. 

Mac wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there. It was long enough to doze off apparently, because the sound of the door unlocking him startled him awake. Too out of it to register much of anything, Mac wildly swiped his hand over the table, grasping at the first vaguely weapon-shaped item there. Stray butterknife in hand, Mac stood on unsteady feet, still disoriented and groggy from his twice interrupted sleep. 

He slowly made his way to the door, wielding the butterknife and watching the lock click. An overwhelming sensation of wrongness washed over him as he shook. He wasn’t even that cold anymore and yet he still shivered in place as the doorknob turned. It was agonizingly slow that the door finally opened.

It was no intruder, no kidnappers coming back for the one they’d left behind. And it definitely wasn’t anyone coming to do him harm. Riley was in the door, a small bag of groceries in hand, and a spare set of house keys in the other.

Seeing the blond, she threw up her hands in surrender. “Woah, hey, Mac,” she said. She kept her voice quiet and gentle, but her widened eyes betrayed how surprised she was to see him there. “What’re you doing out of bed? And with a knife?” He didn’t reply, merely dropping the butterknife and curling his arms around himself. “Are you hurt?” She asked, concern filling her voice. He shook his head.

Riley had come.

The idea itself wasn’t anything too out of the norm, but to Mac’s confused and sluggish brain, she may as well have performed a miracle. Riley’s eyebrows were furrowed in deep worry for the blond, so, stuffing the keys into her pocket, and moving slowly so as not to spook him, she came the rest of the way into the house and shut the door behind her.

“Mac,” she said, putting an arm around him to guide him to a chair. He looked about ready to fall over. “How long have you been awake?” Mac shrugged, allowing Riley to gently bring him into the kitchen and set him down at the table. 

“What happened?” He asked. Why had he woken up alone-- actually, why had been asleep in the first place? And where was everyone, were they okay?

“I went to go get more Tylenol. I didn’t think you’d wake up while I was out, you were sleeping like the dead.” Riley pressed the back of her hand to Mac’s forehead, and he leaned into the touch. “You’re still burning up,” she said decidedly. She reached into the bag for the disposable thermometer she’d picked up (Mac wouldn’t remember, but he’d hidden his and Bozer’s that morning when he’d first suspected he was coming down with something, and Riley could only assume he’d taken it apart). 

“Where're the others?” He asked, accepting the thermometer in his mouth. He knew that thermometers could go other places-- he’d been threatened enough times by Jack to know that letting her put it in his mouth was the best option. Jack had never followed through on those threats, but Mac didn’t really want to see if he would.

Riley answered while the two waited for the thermometer. “Jack and Bozer are finishing some things up at Phoenix. Just because you get a day off, doesn’t mean the whole crew does. But Matty wasn’t happy when you passed out. She wanted someone to take you home and force you to get some rest,” she explained. 

Passed out? So he _had_ gone into work that morning. Some things in his memory cleared up a little-- Jack picked him and Bozer up for work that morning. He could remember getting out of the car once they arrived and Jack’s passing remark about how crappy he looked.

“Trust me,” Riley continued, “Jack fought tooth and nail with Matty to be the one to bring you home, but out of all of us, it’s easiest for me to work from home,” she said, motioning over to her computer resting on the counter. How come he hadn’t seen that before? “Jack’s been asking for updates like every half hour-- I knew he was like that, but Bozer’s been just as bad,” she laughed.

So… they hadn’t forgotten about him. 

Something about knowing that, even when they were busy, the team was still watching over him warmed Mac’s heart. Riley took the thermometer out of his mouth.

“101.6,” she read aloud, frowning. “It’s better, but still not great. Guess it’s more meds and then back to bed,” she said. Riley reached back into the grocery bag for the bottle of Tylenol and fiddled with the tamper-proof seal. 

“In 1982, seven people in Chicago were poisoned with potassium cyanide,” Mac said suddenly.

“What?” Riley stopped peeling the seal off, opting to put her full attention on Mac. He gestured vaguely to the bottle of pills.

“The deaths were linked back to laced Tylenol that each of the victims had consumed. Millions of bottles of Tylenol were recalled. Industry standard soon after began to include that foil seal you see on the medicine you buy.” Mac hacked into the crook of his elbow and absently rubbed at his throat.

Riley smiled, thankful that what he was babbling about wasn’t total nonsense. “I love a good history lesson as much as the next girl,” she said, finally pulling the seal off the bottle all the way, “but maybe you should hold off on talking so much.” 

Mac didn’t say anything else as he accepted the pills and a bottle of Gatorade from Riley. He only took a few extra sips of the Gatorade before he was too tired to pick it back up off the table anymore. Taking a moment to yawn, he rubbed drowsily at his eyes.

“Why don’t I take you back to bed,” Riley said. She had led him about halfway across the room before he weakly struggled against her. “Mac? What’s wrong?” Riley asked. She stopped walking him but kept a hold on him as he swayed a bit.

“I’m not tired,” he said. “I don’t…” he trailed off, looking at her. She seemed worried, and as guilty as that made Mac feel, he didn’t want to be alone again.

“You look like you’re gonna fall asleep just standing here,” Riley teased with a smile. “You need to rest.” 

“Can we go to the couch instead?” Mac asked in a silent request for her to stay with him. 

“Sure, Mac,” she answered. The two carefully made their way to the couch, and Riley set Mac up with some pillows and a blanket. She also went into the kitchen and brought back the bottle of Gatorade, pushing it into his hands and encouraging him to drink it. Mac merely clutched the bottle and let his eyes droop.

Riley barely resisted the urge to snap a picture of the blond-- he looked dazed, hair askew and eyes half-lidded as he hugged the Gatorade bottle to his chest. Mac’s cheeks were still flushed with fever, and the blanket wrapped around him only added to the scene. Shoving away that temptation, Riley sat herself down on the couch next to him.

Riley picked up the remote and surfed Netflix for a few minutes before settling on a Bruce Willis movie-- it was something Jack would have picked, but tried and true, nothing put the agents more at ease and lulled them to sleep like something familiar (Jack would kill them later for watching his man Willis without him, but he’d get over it eventually).

Blinking slowly and breath evening out, Mac was barely conscious when he spoke suddenly. “Thanks, Riles.”

“Don’t mention it,” Riley replied, shifting to get more comfortable, “we’re family, after all.” Mac gave a content hum but was quickly losing his battle against unconsciousness. “Just go to sleep, Mac,” Riley said. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

Safe and cared for under Riley’s watch, Mac let himself sleep, trusting his family to be there for him when he did wake up next.

**Author's Note:**

> kinda just going at my own pace with whumptober, hope you don't mind. I hoped to get them all done by the end of October, but I finally got a job, so perhaps not ahah. Anywho, hope you enjoyed :)


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